


tether

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Arthur hadn’t intended to keep it. Or, not consciously. But every time he caught Merlin searching, he couldn’t quite bring himself to hand over the old leather.Written forMerthur Daily's 1o Years.Day 6: Details





	tether

Arthur dies with a sword in his belly and crusted leather in his hand, and a crown still gleaming on its cushion too far away. That’s all he ever seems to do, in this strange and foreign land. He’s rather getting used to the supernova burst of warmth and pain that fizzles into a cold stiffness. In some ways it’s always the same, a sword’s sharp edge cutting through flesh and muscle and tissue and bone. 

He rarely sees who stabs him. All he can hear is the mocking laughter. Vicious and high and bouncing all around the walls of his invisible cell. They want something from him. They want a lot of things, really, but there's one specific thing that drives them insane. 

_ Give us the tether, me lord. Then we might let you rest. Give it to us, and all will be over. _

He knows this truth. That’s what drives him to cling tight to the cracked leather band around his knuckles. It’s the only real thing in this make believe hell. Still muddy, still bloody, still bearing the faintest traces of his manservant’s smell. 

_ It’s not yours, Sire Arthur. Was never yours to cling too. _

He can still see Merlin standing forlorn in the window. Can still remember placing his hand on his shoulder. He can’t remember why, or what they talked about. He told him not to cry, and the oaf had laughed; had waved those ridiculous hands and not even noticed the leather slipping off. 

Arthur hadn’t intended to keep it. Or, not consciously. But every time he caught Merlin searching, he couldn’t quite bring himself to hand over the old leather. 

Maybe this is his punishment. 

_ Magic leather, imbued with the purest form of energy. Love, goodwill, and hope. How’s a dirty king such as yourself been blessed by a gift like that. Not natural, you know.  _

Not natural at all. He should’ve told him. Should’ve handed it back when Merlin was screaming above him. When the dragon flew him. When Merlin held him like he was precious, like he was everything. He couldn’t though. 

Something had whispered to him then. “Keep the tether, little Arty. Keep it close to your heart. Hold fast this leather bond, don’t ever let go.”

He doesn’t and he hasn’t. His hand might always bear the imprint of a stolen bracelet. The way he thinks, even if he escapes this wretched other-world, his belly will forever bear the ridges of the sword that first slay him. 

He’s afraid though. Because the leather, old and dingy when he picked it up off the floor of his chambers, looks ready to fall apart. Split through in a few spots with strings frayed on all ends.

_ The magic is dying. You can’t use it anymore. Give us the tether and go on to rest. _

He holds in against his chest. It’s still warm, as if he’s just slipped it off a wrist. He presses it to his lips and pain blossoms deep in his gut. 

“Arthur, give me the bracelet, yeah?” 

It’s a new voice. One that’s familiar in all the worst ways. He’s slipping, just the same as his circlet once did. Firm fingers pry his hand open and he screws his eyes shut, struggles against the thief. “It’s mine! You mustn't take it from me!”

Laughter, though not vicious and cruel - gentle and kind. “It was never yours, Arthur. You’ve only been borrowing it. Now it’s time to return it. C’mon. Be a good lad.” A kiss to his cheek, one he never quite got in life, but dreams about even in this waking nightmare. And then one to his lips, and he knows this kiss  he’s felt it before, right as his last breath left him  plump and chapped and a little cold,  _Merlin has found him._

Arthur clenches his fist, keeps his eyes shut, holds the leather against his heart. “Hold me first, yeah?”   


They’ve played cruel tricks before.


End file.
